It feels surreal. No, actually it feels scary… unorganized, tumultuous, messy… and a bit sad. The house on Taylor Street now stands alone. Vacant. Waiting for a new life to fill her walls. I only want the best for her. She saw me through many years of health, happiness, illness, sadness… but I could no longer care for her. Fibromyalgia made sure of that. On the 5th of September, we will hand over the keys to her new owner.
I don’t know much about him, the future owner. I don’t believe we are really supposed to ever meet. The little bit of information I have found out is that he is from Japan. He is an expert at purchasing and refurbishing duplexes. This is what he DOES. The house on Taylor Street will be in good hands, I think. I hope.
Fibromyalgia takes and takes. The more you fight your symptoms, the more your symptoms fight back! I was not able to move from my home with a planned pace of moving in an organized fashion … fibromyalgia made sure of that. It was a frantic and chaotic exercise, just trying to get everything boxed and thrown into a pick-up bed.
IT. WAS. NOT. PRETTY.
I arrived at my family lake home with very little memory of the actual event. The following days my families annual reunion was taking place as scheduled. I was in attendance. (I know this because I am in the family picture!) Honestly, I do not have much recollection of the weekend event. The following week I know I made some meals, went on a few boat rides, and drove my mom to a few medical appointments. I made a nurse cry (long story). I made the ritualistic runs to WalMart, I have the storage bins to prove it. During this time, my husband was driving from the lake house to the city house to empty the last remaining boxes of tools and ‘man’ stuff.
Then, three days ago I went to bed and I just never got up.
Three days felt like an hour… I did emerge from my room once. My sister simply looked at me and said, “you’ve lost two days.” I nodded and returned to my room, ‘losing’ another day. My sister knows about the loss of time as she suffers from debilitating migraines. Infrequently but never the less horrific to observe. (I can’t fathom that kind of excruciating head pain!)
Now what lies ahead of me is a smaller home. An RV until we decide where to put down roots again. A pickup truck. Only the worldly possessions that we can carry with us. Fibromyalgia can’t take that away… but it will try.
It is so good to be back blogging! I have missed our tribe terribly!